In picking the House budget chief, Romney is getting a No. 2 who shares his analytical mindset, love of data, and ability to pivot on messaging.

In the weeks before Rep. Paul Ryan released his latest budget blueprint this year, he urged all of the presidential candidates to follow his fiscal lead. He critiqued GOP front-runner Mitt Romney's speech at the Conservative Political Action Conference as "pretty good," but cautioned that all of the candidates needed to take bold policy stances. "We need to have an election with a mandate, so we can fix these problems," he said at a breakfast with reporters in mid-February.

He was equally noncommittal about his allegiances weeks later, when he praised both Romney and Rick Santorum for broaching the topic of entitlements on the campaign trail. "Their specifics have jived perfectly well with what we've been saying," he told National Journal. "We're all saying the same thing, and that's very good in my opinion."

And, when his big budget was finally unveiled in late March, the chairman of the House Budget Committee dared the GOP candidates to not follow suit. "I expect the Republican nominee to offer the country the legitimate choice that they deserve," Ryan, of Wisconsin, said. "I expect our nominee to propose how to get us out of a debt crisis."

How's that for warm and fuzzy collaboration among the Republicans?

But, contrary to this tough-minded public stance, Republican aides, lobbyists, and Ryan's own staff say that Ryan and likely Republican nominee Romney have developed a strong, working rapport--so strong in fact that Ryan's name shot to the top of the list of potential vice presidential running mates. On Saturday, Romney is expected to officially announce Ryan as his pick.

Though Ryan may initially seem like a person unlikely to play second fiddle given his own large aspirations, sources say that the two men share a similar analytical mindset and a love of data, an ability to pivot on their messaging and framing of key issues, and the patience and persistence needed to take the long view in the pursuit of victory. In Ryan's case, he's spent years honing an ideology about the country's fiscal trajectory that has become the House Repubicans' dominant message, while Romney has shown similar steadfastness in the years he's spent chasing the presidency.

"They connect on the fact that Ryan is one of the idea guys in our party," said former New Hampshire Republican Sen. Judd Gregg, who knows both men. "Romney likes people who think out of the box, who are capable of bringing substance."

The relationship has been budding since the spring, when Romney and Ryan began exchanging phone calls so that the congressman could walk the candidate through his budget. Ryan would detail the various aspects - Medicare, Medicaid, tax reform - and also explain to Romney the best way to frame the issues to constituents.

The calls culminated in Ryan's endorsement of the former Massachusetts governor four days before the Wisconsin primary, when Romney was locked in a heated battle with Santorum, a former senator from Pennsylvania. There was enough trust in the relationship for Romney's team to greenlight the pair sharing the spotlight that night in a Fox News interview with Sean Hannity, during which they sat side-by-side in checked shirts, warning about the dangers of reelecting President Obama.

Their bromance built over the next few days as they attended town hall meetings together across Wisconsin. Romney quickly went from dominating the discussion to ceding some answers to Ryan, citing his fiscal expertise. When Romney needed a recommendation for a local hotspot to grab a bite, it was Ryan who recommended the banana milkshakes at Culver's, a favorite Wisconsin fast food chain.

"They really had the opportunity to get to know each other, to talk a little bit more on everything from ... thoughts on monetary policy and the Federal Reserve to their family, their kids, and their hobbies," said Kevin Seifert, a Ryan spokesman.

The rapport was so good that Ryan helped Romney's staff play an April Fool's Day joke. The staff ushered Romney into an empty room that he thought was an under-attended campaign event. The former governor, who is known to be fond of pranks, chuckled at his staff as Ryan guffawed to his right. "Oh geez, you guys are really bad!" Romney remarked.

The relationship grew after the April primary, and Ryan joined Romney on a June bus tour that went through Wisconsin. Their wives, Ann Romney and Janna Ryan, also get along. They spent time together during a retreat for top Romney donors in Park City, Utah.

For all Ryan's hype within the party, though, questions remain about his readiness for the No. 2 slot on the ticket. Ryan has almost no experience in business, the same critique Romney has of President Obama, and Ryan is a creature of Washington, which is potentially a big liability at time when public approval of Congress is at an all-time low.

Other parts of the vice presidency - such as advocating for someone else's ideas - may come naturally to Ryan, who previously served as a speechwriter for Jack Kemp's think tank, Empower America, and then for his 1996 vice-presidential campaign, when he ran with Republican nominee Bob Dole. It helps, of course, that much of Romney's policy will be drawn from Ryan's own ideas.

In that regard, the Washington experience could be a plus.

Ryan "could utilize his relationships in the House and Senate, I would say, to really help an administration work very effectively with Congress," said Wisconsin Sen. Ron Johnson.

Ryan has also shown an ability to pivot, not necessarily when it comes to ideology, but on the way he builds support for his ideas. Following a bruising blowback after the release of last year's budget, Ryan was much more careful with this year's sales pitch. He toned down the health care portion and was quick to cast it as bipartisan, thanks to the plan he developed with Oregon's Democratic Sen. Ron Wyden. He took the topline tax ideas from the Republicans on the House Ways & Means Committee in an effort to show collaboration. When he released "The Path to Prosperity" in late March on Capitol Hill, he did so flanked by the other Republican members of the House Budget Committee as if to show the broad support for his policies.

That trait that will be crucial for him in a vice presidential supporting role.

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His paranoid style paved the road for Trumpism. Now he fears what’s been unleashed.

Glenn Beck looks like the dad in a Disney movie. He’s earnest, geeky, pink, and slightly bulbous. His idea of salty language is bullcrap.

The atmosphere at Beck’s Mercury Studios, outside Dallas, is similarly soothing, provided you ignore the references to genocide and civilizational collapse. In October, when most commentators considered a Donald Trump presidency a remote possibility, I followed audience members onto the set of The Glenn Beck Program, which airs on Beck’s website, theblaze.com. On the way, we passed through a life-size replica of the Oval Office as it might look if inhabited by a President Beck, complete with a portrait of Ronald Reagan and a large Norman Rockwell print of a Boy Scout.

Should you drink more coffee? Should you take melatonin? Can you train yourself to need less sleep? A physician’s guide to sleep in a stressful age.

During residency, Iworked hospital shifts that could last 36 hours, without sleep, often without breaks of more than a few minutes. Even writing this now, it sounds to me like I’m bragging or laying claim to some fortitude of character. I can’t think of another type of self-injury that might be similarly lauded, except maybe binge drinking. Technically the shifts were 30 hours, the mandatory limit imposed by the Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education, but we stayed longer because people kept getting sick. Being a doctor is supposed to be about putting other people’s needs before your own. Our job was to power through.

The shifts usually felt shorter than they were, because they were so hectic. There was always a new patient in the emergency room who needed to be admitted, or a staff member on the eighth floor (which was full of late-stage terminally ill people) who needed me to fill out a death certificate. Sleep deprivation manifested as bouts of anger and despair mixed in with some euphoria, along with other sensations I’ve not had before or since. I remember once sitting with the family of a patient in critical condition, discussing an advance directive—the terms defining what the patient would want done were his heart to stop, which seemed likely to happen at any minute. Would he want to have chest compressions, electrical shocks, a breathing tube? In the middle of this, I had to look straight down at the chart in my lap, because I was laughing. This was the least funny scenario possible. I was experiencing a physical reaction unrelated to anything I knew to be happening in my mind. There is a type of seizure, called a gelastic seizure, during which the seizing person appears to be laughing—but I don’t think that was it. I think it was plain old delirium. It was mortifying, though no one seemed to notice.

Why did Trump’s choice for national-security advisor perform so well in the war on terror, only to find himself forced out of the Defense Intelligence Agency?

How does a man like retired Lieutenant General Mike Flynn—who spent his life sifting through information and parsing reports, separating rumor and innuendo from actionable intelligence—come to promote conspiracy theories on social media?

Perhaps it’s less Flynn who’s changed than that the circumstances in which he finds himself—thriving in some roles, and flailing in others.

In diagnostic testing, there’s a basic distinction between sensitivity, or the ability to identify positive results, and specificity, the ability to exclude negative ones. A test with high specificity may avoid generating false positives, but at the price of missing many diagnoses. One with high sensitivity may catch those tricky diagnoses, but also generate false positives along the way. Some people seem to sift through information with high sensitivity, but low specificity—spotting connections that others can’t, and perhaps some that aren’t even there.

“Well, you’re just special. You’re American,” remarked my colleague, smirking from across the coffee table. My other Finnish coworkers, from the school in Helsinki where I teach, nodded in agreement. They had just finished critiquing one of my habits, and they could see that I was on the defensive.

I threw my hands up and snapped, “You’re accusing me of being too friendly? Is that really such a bad thing?”

“Well, when I greet a colleague, I keep track,” she retorted, “so I don’t greet them again during the day!” Another chimed in, “That’s the same for me, too!”

Unbelievable, I thought. According to them, I’m too generous with my hellos.

When I told them I would do my best to greet them just once every day, they told me not to change my ways. They said they understood me. But the thing is, now that I’ve viewed myself from their perspective, I’m not sure I want to remain the same. Change isn’t a bad thing. And since moving to Finland two years ago, I’ve kicked a few bad American habits.

Why the ingrained expectation that women should desire to become parents is unhealthy

In 2008, Nebraska decriminalized child abandonment. The move was part of a "safe haven" law designed to address increased rates of infanticide in the state. Like other safe-haven laws, parents in Nebraska who felt unprepared to care for their babies could drop them off in a designated location without fear of arrest and prosecution. But legislators made a major logistical error: They failed to implement an age limitation for dropped-off children.

Within just weeks of the law passing, parents started dropping off their kids. But here's the rub: None of them were infants. A couple of months in, 36 children had been left in state hospitals and police stations. Twenty-two of the children were over 13 years old. A 51-year-old grandmother dropped off a 12-year-old boy. One father dropped off his entire family -- nine children from ages one to 17. Others drove from neighboring states to drop off their children once they heard that they could abandon them without repercussion.

Democrats who have struggled for years to sell the public on the Affordable Care Act are now confronting a far more urgent task: mobilizing a political coalition to save it.

Even as the party reels from last month’s election defeat, members of Congress, operatives, and liberal allies have turned to plotting a campaign against repealing the law that, they hope, will rival the Tea Party uprising of 2009 that nearly scuttled its passage in the first place. A group of progressive advocacy groups will announce on Friday a coordinated effort to protect the beneficiaries of the Affordable Care Act and stop Republicans from repealing the law without first identifying a plan to replace it.

They don’t have much time to fight back. Republicans on Capitol Hill plan to set repeal of Obamacare in motion as soon as the new Congress opens in January, and both the House and Senate could vote to wind down the law immediately after President-elect Donald Trump takes the oath of office on the 20th.

Trinidad has the highest rate of Islamic State recruitment in the Western hemisphere. How did this happen?

This summer, the so-called Islamic State published issue 15 of its online magazine Dabiq. In what has become a standard feature, it ran an interview with an ISIS foreign fighter. “When I was around twenty years old I would come to accept the religion of truth, Islam,” said Abu Sa’d at-Trinidadi, recalling how he had turned away from the Christian faith he was born into.

At-Trinidadi, as his nom de guerre suggests, is from the Caribbean island of Trinidad and Tobago (T&T), a country more readily associated with calypso and carnival than the “caliphate.” Asked if he had a message for “the Muslims of Trinidad,” he condemned his co-religionists at home for remaining in “a place where you have no honor and are forced to live in humiliation, subjugated by the disbelievers.” More chillingly, he urged Muslims in T&T to wage jihad against their fellow citizens: “Terrify the disbelievers in their own homes and make their streets run with their blood.”

A professor of cognitive science argues that the world is nothing like the one we experience through our senses.

As we go about our daily lives, we tend to assume that our perceptions—sights, sounds, textures, tastes—are an accurate portrayal of the real world. Sure, when we stop and think about it—or when we find ourselves fooled by a perceptual illusion—we realize with a jolt that what we perceive is never the world directly, but rather our brain’s best guess at what that world is like, a kind of internal simulation of an external reality. Still, we bank on the fact that our simulation is a reasonably decent one. If it wasn’t, wouldn’t evolution have weeded us out by now? The true reality might be forever beyond our reach, but surely our senses give us at least an inkling of what it’s really like.

The same part of the brain that allows us to step into the shoes of others also helps us restrain ourselves.

You’ve likely seen the video before: a stream of kids, confronted with a single, alluring marshmallow. If they can resist eating it for 15 minutes, they’ll get two. Some do. Others cave almost immediately.

This “Marshmallow Test,” first conducted in the 1960s, perfectly illustrates the ongoing war between impulsivity and self-control. The kids have to tamp down their immediate desires and focus on long-term goals—an ability that correlates with their later health, wealth, and academic success, and that is supposedly controlled by the front part of the brain. But a new study by Alexander Soutschek at the University of Zurich suggests that self-control is also influenced by another brain region—and one that casts this ability in a different light.

The combination of suspicion and reverence that people feel toward the financially successful isn’t unique to the modern era, but reflects a deep ambivalence that goes back to the Roman empire.

In the early 20th century, Dale Carnegie began to travel the United States delivering to audiences a potent message he would refine and eventually publish in his 1936 bestseller, How To Win Friends and Influence People: “About 15 percent of one’s financial success is due to one’s technical knowledge and about 85 percent is due to skill in human engineering—to personality and the ability to lead people.” Carnegie, who based his claim on research done at institutes founded by the industrialist Andrew Carnegie (unrelated), thus enshrined for Americans the notion that leadership was the key to success in business—that profit might be less about engineering things and more about engineering people. Over 30 million copies of Carnegie’s book have been sold since its publication.